Life by Any Other Name
by lrose20
Summary: By the miracles of magic, Severus Snape survived Nagini's bite. This leaves Harry Potter with a former Death Eater the rest of the wizarding world wants locked up forever, and a conscious that won't allow that. Snape-Harry friendship.
1. June 1998

June 1998

"Do you think this will work?" Harry asked in a hoarse voice, staring up at Madam Pomfrey anxiously.

"It's a very slim chance, Mr. Potter. The venom is deep into his body by now, and this potion has had very limited success," she replied grimly, and then they both returned to looking at Snape, whose skin was as white as chalk, his eyes closed. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

Harry stared down at the man, completely confounded as to how he felt about him. He had been so sure Snape was a traitor, so sure he was on Voldemort's side...But to now find out that not only was Snape loyal, he had loved his mother, been friends with her?

Harry shook his head slightly. He didn't like Snape any more than he had before...but perhaps some of the blinding hatred had vanished. Harry sighed, staring at his lap. Alright, maybe more than a little. The hatred seemed to have replaced with a bewildering numbness that Harry did not understand.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard a very quiet noise and looked back over to see Snape's eyelids flickering.

"Snape?" Harry said tentatively, unsure if the man was even conscious. "Professor?" he said, forgetting that Severus Snape was in fact no longer his teacher. For a moment Harry was sure he had imagined the obsidian eyes slowly met his, though there was no expression in them.

"Po-potter?" the man said weakly, sounding doubtful. Then he let out a huff that Harry took to be a chuckle.

"Of course, not even in hell can I escape the Potters," he wheezed.

"You're not dead...we gave you a potion...You're in Hogwarts..."

Snape blinked several times, hard, as if this information wasn't really sinking in. "Not dead? That's...absurd."

"I swear, you're alive...Sir...I..." Harry bit his lip hesitantly, feeling highly uncomfortable."I feel I need to thank you...for everything you've done. I saw your memories and...well, I don't think I can ever forgive you for the things you I understand why you did them...and I know that you were always loyal to Dumbledore."

Snape coughed again, shaking his head. "How utterly touching.I may even be moved to cry," Snape said dryly, his sarcasm far from gone despite the fact that he was on death's door. "Now, be so kind and leave me alone to die, Potter."

Harry's brow furrowed and he shook his head indignantly. "I'm not going to let you die! I'm telling you the truth, the potion is working! Dumbledore would have wanted you to live, I know he would...I don't...er, particularly like you. And yeah, there was a time when I thought you deserved to die. But not anymore...I don't want you to die," Harry added, his voice barely more than a whisper.

Snape made the huffing noise again, seeming to find this amusing. "Ah,yes, and Harry Potter always gets what he wants, doesn't he?"

Harry glowered at him, unable to believe that the man could still be a snarky git after almost dying."You can glower at me all you want, but I'm not leaving this room until tomorrow morning. Go to sleep." Snape seemed on the verge of arguing, but after staring at Harry for a moment,he simply closed his eyes. As he was drifting back into unconsciousness, he murmured,

"You really do...have her eyes." Then he was asleep once more and Harry stared on with a mixture of alarm and amazement.

"Madam Pomfrey?" he called after a moment, gaining the attention of the mediwitch. She came bustling over to his side, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
"Do you need something, dear?"

"It worked..." Harry said faintly, his eyes fixed on the figure of his former teacher.

It would have seemed that the success of saving Severus Snape's life would have been seen as a medical miracle. Instead it turned out to be the biggest head ache Harry had ever had to deal with. While he had forgiven Snape for what he had done, or at least tried to keep it from hating the man, others had not forgotten so quickly. Having been in the final battle alongside Harry, Ron and Hermione were slowly won over. Ron was of course more reluctant to believe that Snape had actually been on their side, but even he eventually agreed to not hex Snape when next he saw him, which Harry saw as progress. Professor McGonagall, recently appointed Headmistress of Hogwarts, was not so sure others would believe Harry so easily.

"Potter, I understand what you think you saw. I know that you wish to believe that Severus Snape is a hero, who was only working for our benefit. But you must understand what this looks like. I am in no position to provide clemency or aid for a known Death Eater who was responsible for the death of Albus Dumbledore."

Harry scowled, biting into one of the biscuits she had offered him, this one covered with chocolate.

"Professor, Dumbledore was dying! Severus Snape killed him out of mercy!"

"Harry, I believe you." McGonagall interrupted him, startling him by placing a wrinkled hand over his own. "I must admit, I am still sceptical about everything you have told me, but I do believe that Severus did what he was told. You must understand that without proof, the Ministry will not listen to a word you have to say. He will be tried guilty and given the Dementor's kiss. Do not try and fight this fire unless you have fire to fight it with."

Fire, Harry had. The cooperation and sanity of a certain man was something that he found himself in short supply of however.

"What do you mean you don't want them to see your memories?" Harry demanded, glaring at Snape, who lay in the hospital bed, as pale and unhappy as ever.

"Potter, my memories are not an open book for anyone to peruse. I have no wish to seek defense, or to even stand trial. Whatever little affairs I had to take care of were handled long ago. I rest easy knowing that soon it will be over." Harry stared into those obsidian eyes for a moment, trying to place some hidden meaning there. Then he shook his head in amazement, straightening up in his chair.

"I never thought I would see this. Severus Snape, giving up! You are honestly telling me that you value your life so little?"

"What life do I have to value, Potter?" Snape snapped back in retort, the exertion of his vocal chords sending him into another spasm of coughing. Madam Pomfrey came rushing over to see what had happened, but Snape waved her away, finally calming down enough to stop the coughing. He took a deep breath before turning to look at Harry again, his voice calmer but still holding the same amount of spite. "Suppose in the highly unlikely possibility that you convince the Ministry to not convict me, I can assure you I will still be placed under guard. I will be put in a safe house, where I can do little damage. I will be constantly monitored. Tell me, Potter, what kind of life is that?"

"It's better than giving up!" Harry declared, so loudly that Madam Pomfrey insisted he was doing more harm than good and had him leave the Hospital Wing, thus ending the argument.

Like an obstinate yo-yo that kept springing back up, Harry would not give up. He visited Snape every day, although Madam Pomfrey limited these visits to twenty minutes. However twenty minutes in a day was all Harry needed to badger Snape about the memories. The rest of his days were consumed by warding away journalists, who were constantly trying to get an interview with Harry or Snape, or ideally: both of them, and consulting law books about defending Snape. And then one day, while plowing his way through yet another dusty book, Harry had an idea. It was an awful idea, an idea he might hate himself for. But if it meant saving Severus Snape's life, then by hell and high water, he would do it.


	2. July 1998

July 1998

"I, Harry James Potter, declare myself as the guardian of former Death Eater, Severus Snape."

"And in doing so, Mr. Potter, do you declare his actions as your own? That if he should break his parole for any reason, it will be on your head?"

"I do."

The Minister raised his eyebrows at Harry, looking a touch sceptical. He lowered his voice then so that only Harry and a few surrounding wizards could hear his words.

"Mr. Potter, I must ask, are you sure you wish to do this? Severus Snape is a Death Eater, the murderer of Albus Dumbledore. You do not have to save his worthless life. Believe me, the Wizarding World will judge you favourably if you declare him guilty. Rather more so, I think."

Less than a month ago, Harry would have whole heartedly agreed with the Minister. But now he simply and firmly shook his head, his chin raised.

"I am sure, Minister. My choices are my own. And I really couldn't give a damn what the Wizarding World thinks of me. Let's finish this, so that we can all go home." The Minister coughed slightly into his handkerchief, glanced once more at Harry, and then shaking his head, he announced,

"The Ministry of Magic declares Harry James Potter the guardian of Severus Snape for the indefinite period in which the Ministry sees fit." The Minister swiftly signed the form, watched as Harry did the same, and then with a spark of magic, the paper disappeared. The words: "Court adjourned" were lost in the screams of protests and and questions that came from the crowd.

So this was how Harry Potter, the Chosen One, and Severus Snape, reformed Death Eater, ended up living together. As Snape had predicted, the Ministry had gone to extreme lengths to find a house that was secluded and as far away from London as possible while still being in the United Kingdom. The old house that they had been set up in was about twenty minutes outside of the town of Wick. It was a charming little town, with a grand total of three harbors, and a fairly small magical community. It was leagues away from London, but when one could apparate, distance mattered little. And so Harry had not complained about the location. Snape had of course muttered snidely about the quaint settings and the isolation, but Harry thought the man was secretly pleased. He couldn't see Snape being too happy being surrounded by people.

The house was plain, white wash on the outside. It had one floor and an attic that was filled with relics that apparently the Ministry hadn't bothered to get rid of. There was one large bedroom which Harry allowed Snape to have, given his fragile condition. Despite the man's temper and sarcasm, he was still very weak and was only able to stay awake for thirty minutes, an hour at most. His best record so far had been four hours of being awake in a period of twenty four hours. Harry took one of the smaller bedrooms on the other side of the house, knowing that his former professor would eventually appreciate the privacy. There was a sitting room with a fire place, and a kitchen. Other than a bathroom and a garden, that was all the house had. Not much space or amenities, but really, how much did they need? Harry would be gone with work, and Snape would be asleep.

And indeed, this was the way life went for quite some time. Harry would wake up, eat breakfast, put the kettle on, read The Prophet, and get dressed. Then he would drink his tea, bring a mug and the paper to Snape's room, and leave for London. When he arrived home, Snape would typically be asleep again. It was a rare occurrence that the two were even awake or around at the same time. After a while, Harry began to wonder if this had really been a mercy. Would it have been better to simply let Snape die? After all, what type of life was this? But it was too late to change his decision, and somewhere deep inside himself, he knew he had done the right thing.


	3. November 1998

November 1998

Harry sat by the fireplace, a mug of tea in his hand as he watched the flames. Outside the wind howled and moaned, making the windows rattle. Freezing rain fell and tinkled upon the roof. Harry was still dressed in his Auror robes, having not bothered to change out of them yet.

He had returned around six after another grueling day of work. Upon his declaration of guardianship to Snape, Harry had made record time at achieving a position in the Aurors. He hardly thought it was fair, really. He had just managed to complete basic training when he was offered the position, while others had trained for years without such reward. But the Wizarding World seemed to determined to believe that Harry was the next Merlin, and there was little he could do to convince them otherwise.

The Aurors had still been unsuccessful at hunting down the remaining Death Eaters, and they had almost lost a man today. Harry had arrived home and had immediately gone to check on Snape who was staying in the master bedroom. He had found the former potions master fast asleep beneath the downy covers, his face still as pale as ever. Even though Snape had been attacked by Nagini nearly half a year ago, he was still very weak and typically slept a good eighteen hours every day.

So Harry had tiptoed back out of the room and whipped himself up some Earl Grey tea. Now he sat listening to the storm, feeling troubled. He had never expected there to be such chaos after Voldemort's defeat, but the wizarding world was a mess right now.

A large amount of Voldemort's followers had managed to avoid detection and seemed determined to continue Voldemort's the opportunist, Lucius Malfoy had been quite eager to help the Ministry hunt down the rest of these fanatics, for a price of course. If Harry had been Minister, he would have made sure the slippery bastard was locked in the farthest reaches of Azkaban. As for Malfoy Junior, Harry had not seen him for quite some time. It was rumored that he had taken his mother to the Caribbean, where they were having a long holiday. Harry could not say he blamed them. At the end, all Narcissa had cared about was her son, and Draco had at least stayed out of Harry's way.

Harry groaned, taking a long sip of his tea and shaking his head at the fire. He needed advice, he needed someone to talk to-

"Potter?"

Harry's head shot up and looked over his shoulder to see Snape leaning against the entrance way, wrapped in a blanket and looking quite weak."Snape, you shouldn't be out of bed! You're not well enough!"

Snape scowled at him. "I cannot stay in that bed for a moment longer. I get sick of the silence...after hours of only my own thoughts, even your company is appealing."

"Gee, I'm flattered." Harry said "Fine then, come sit down before you faint or something." Snape arched an eyebrow, but complied, shakily making his way over to the sofa and sitting down next to Harry. Both men for silent for a few moments before Snape spoke again.

"You know Potter, you don't have to keep doing this. It's been months, I can survive without a nurse maid. The Ministry has deemed that I am indeed not an immediate threat." Snape spat these words as if they were poison on his tongue. "You could live in London, surrounded by your friends and fans."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, how many times do we have to do this?" Harry snapped, at the same time that the wind gave a particularly fierce shake to the windows. "After everything you did for me, for the Order, for Dumbledore, this is the least you deserve."

"Potter, I made your life miserable...you owe me nothing. Get that through your hero's head."

Harry glowered at him, setting his mug down. "I'm not a hero! I'm just...look, I don't trust anyone else to do this. If I don't owe it to you, I owe it to Dumbledore. And you owe it to him to put up with having a...a nurse maid, as you put it!" Snape looked like he wanted to argue, but he remained silent, looking back at the fire again.

The storm continued to rage on, and the pair sat there in silence, each lost in their own thoughts."...I wish he was still alive..."Harry suddenly murmured. "He made me so angry sometimes, not telling me everything, manipulating me...But I miss him. I miss him a lot." Harry said, his voice cracking, and a tear sliding down his cheek. Snape looked at him for a minute, then to Harry's shock, he put a hand very lightly on the younger man's shoulder.

"I miss him too." And that was all either needed in that moment, as they sat there and listened to the wind cry, the ice fall, and they remembered a man they had both loved.

After this rather bizarre evening of comradry Snape seemed to get better. He still slept a great deal, but he was now up during the day. Occasionally he would be awake when Harry got up in the morning, and Harry would bring him breakfast and tea. Their conversations remained clipped and short. Snape was sarcastic and snide and in return, Harry was frustrated and exhausted. After six months of Snape being practically comatose, Harry had somehow deluded himself into believing that this was going to be easy. Why Harry ever thought 'easy' and 'Severus Snape' could belong in the same sentence was beyond him.

* * *

"Fine. Next time you can make your own bloody tea!"

"Language, Potter." Snape snapped, setting his mug of tea down with more force than was necessary.

"You're not my teacher any more!" Harry retorted. "Don't boss me around, I have no tolerance for it, Snape, I do not! And if you give me that patronizing look one more time, so help me-!"

"I will cease to tell you what to do when you begin to behave like a grown wizard, and not a self centered teenager!"

"Self centered? Oh, I'm self centered, am I? Me staying in this God-forsaken place, catering to your whims, is self centered? Heaven help us then if I was to be more considerate!" Harry yelled, all self control gone.

"Go, then!" Snape snarled in return. "No one is forcing you to stay! I would certainly benefit from your absence!"

Harry stared at Snape for a moment, his chest heaving. Then with a growl under his breath, he waved his wand, and with a crack, he was gone. Moments later the tea cup met an untimely demise against the wall.


	4. December 1998

December 1998

Harry did not return until Christmas evening. He had apparated to the field beside the house to find himself plastered with an unusual blasting of snow that was dropping from the sky. He swore as a large clump of it fell from the house onto his head and he dove for the door, jerking it open and slamming it shut behind him. So much for making a quiet entrance. The house was deathly quiet, which did not reassure Harry in the slightest. "Snape?" he called hesitantly, having not forgotten the row they'd had. There was no answer, and Harry groaned. If Snape was dead...

He glanced around, made to go into the sitting room, and then heard a loud clattering from the kitchen, followed by several curses and strings of profanity. Harry raised his eyebrows and carefully ventured towards the kitchen, slowly peering around the corner. The stove was a mess, with soup covering its entirety. It trailed down the old fashioned oven and onto the floor where it had pooled around the shoes of one Severus Snape, who held a pot in his hand.

"Er...Happy Christmas." Harry said, although he doubted his yuletide greeting was welcome. Snape whirled around, startled by Harry's voice, then scowled when he saw who it was.

"What was that Muggle saying? Bah, humbug?" He slammed the pot back onto the stove with a ferocity that Harry had only seen a few times.

"What happened?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"I don't know," Snape growled. "I was attempting to make soup. When the Ministry learned you had returned to London, they placed my magic under restriction."

"What? Those arrogant..."

"I had assumed that was why you were here. To make sure I hadn't broken parole."

"No, it's...well, it's Christmas. I couldn't let you spend it alone."

"You chose to spend Christmas evening in this desolate place? The Weasleys' cuisine must have really gone down hill," Snape said snidely, before staring at the mess on the soup rather morosely.

"Oh, let me." Harry said, a note of exasperation in his voice. "Evanesco." The soup vanished from the kitchen, although it left behind the distinct smell of garlic and potatoes. "I already went there. We had Christmas dinner earlier. And I'll have you know that Mrs. Weasley's food is better than it's ever been. They're having a New Years party...you should come." Harry offered, trying to make his voice non-chalant.

"Potter, when have you known me to have any interest in social events? Do you really believe people would be so willing to have a former Death Eater crashing a party?"

"There's always time for a change." Harry said, taking off his traveling robe which was now soaked through.

"Absolutely not. If every dundering idiot was constantly experimenting with their potions, they would kill themselves. The same applies to one's life, Mr. Potter. Do not try and turn me into Albus Dumbledore. I am old, tired, and I prefer it that way. Happy. Christmas," In two clipped words, Snape had ended the conversation, and had left the kitchen, leaving Harry alone.

"Bah, humbug," Harry muttered under his breath.


	5. January 1999

January 1999

To the shock of no one, Snape didn't attend the New Years party. Harry decided not long into the festivities that it was probably for the best. While his immediate friends and co-workers had seemed to accept Snape's innocence and Harry's guardianship, most others had not. Every day Harry was plagued by a group of reporters who wanted to know every little detail of his life with the former Death Eater. Was he under a confundus charm? Could Snape fly? Was Harry suffering from post-traumatic stress syndrome? And so Harry kindly told them to go bugger themselves. Of course, that got printed too. Harry didn't mind the reporters; he'd gotten use the them after all these years. It was the widow who had lost all his children and wife that bothered him. The Auror who had lost all but an eye and a leg. Them and so many others who yelled at him on the street, who called him a traitor. Harry knew it wasn't true, knew that he was doing the right thing. But that didn't help the guilt that Harry felt, didn't wash away the pain that ate away at him.

It was after yet another unsuccessful raid that Harry fell apart. He had been heading towards the fire places to apparate home, when a woman began to screech at him. "Traitor! Bastard! My husband was blown to bits by the likes of him! I couldn't even bury him! Traitor!" In a moment of madness, Harry had pointed his wand at her, and had been stunned by two of his co-workers. His boss gently suggested Harry take some time off. And so Harry found himself wandering around the little house aimlessly, driving his former Professor mad.

"There's nothing to do." Harry said grumpily, staring out at the rain. Snape heaved a long suffering sigh, looking up from his book.

"You look like a child, standing there pouting. For heaven's sake, surely an 18 year old man knows how to entertain himself. Go...explore the house or something. Go clean out that infernal attic. Just let me read!"

Harry scowled unhappily but wandered out of the parlor, and was indeed about to go excavate the attic, when there was a knock on the door.

"Mr. Potter," the wizard greeted him promptly upon Harry opening the door.

"Em, yes. Hello. Can I help you?" Harry asked, running his hand through his hair.

"My name is Lewis D'Marcus, I'm from the Ministry. I need to speak with both you and Mr. Snape."

"Professor Snape," Harry corrected automatically, making the other wizard blink in surprise. "Yeah, he's here...Come in, I guess," Harry invited reluctantly. stepping back to allow D'Marcus to enter the little house.

"Potter, so help me, if it is Weasley or Granger-" Snape cut himself off as Harry led D'Marcus into the sitting room.

"Good afternoon, Mr.-Er, Professor Snape," D'Marcus said, clearly reluctant to refer to Snape by that title. "I work for the Ministry, and I would like a word with both you and Mr. Potter."

He sat down in the chair across from Snape, who seemed less than thrilled to have a visitor from the Ministry. "Is it about my magic being restored to me?" Snape icily inquired.

"Well, that is certainly relevant," D'Marcus mused. "I am sure both of you are aware that we're having...well a bit of trouble rounding up the last of the Death Eaters."

Harry snorted; there was an understatement if ever he'd heard one.

"Yes, we had an inkling," Snape said silkily. "It is hardly sensational news to us."

Harry's lip quirked in spite of himself, watching D'Marcus squirm under Snape's scathing tone.

"Ahem, yes, of course...Well, as you know Professor, you are indebted to the Ministry for it's...leniency towards you and Mr. Potter's request for you to remain out of prison."

Harry scowled. "Does the Ministry need me to show them the bloody Pensieve again?"

"No, no. We are calling in your charge's debt. Professor Snape, your role as a spy has been reinstated."


End file.
